


The Mistress in his Bed

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff? Maybe, Light Angst, Pregnancy, Romance, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, based on a book, basically a medieval wife swap, bobbi has visions, but her daddy still loves her none the less, but predicted pregnancy, evil stepmother Victoria Hand, idk how to tag, in which Jemma is an illegitimate child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8113432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the year 1578, Lord Coulson was blessed with the birth of his second daughter, a lively child, named Jemma Simmons. However, Jemma is an illegitimate child, and as she grows older she learns that despite her fathers high title, she is placed below the peasants in society and is forced to work as a servant at the hand of her Stepmother, Lady Victoria.In the year 1602, Lord Coulson's eldest daughter, and only legitimate child, is married by proxy to a Scot. Unwilling to send her daughter to the bed of a Scot, Lady Victoria devises a plan and sends Jemma in leiu of Bethany. Jemma is told that she must birth the Scot a son, then return to her fathers castle without the child, so that Lady Bethany can take over without the Scots notice. Jemma finds the plan outrageous and believes no man would be so dum witted as to forget what his wife looks like, however, despite her feelings of unease Jemma is forced to go or else Lady Victoria will see that her mother and sister end up in harms way.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a book, I sincerely hope that you enjoy it.
> 
> Please note that there will be a build up of chapters first before anything explicit happens, and before Fitzsimmons meet. The first two chapters are mostly Jemma centric.

>  

Shield Castle, 1578

"She shall not touch my pearls." Announced Victoria. The Countess of Shield was a beautiful woman but she twisted her lips into an ugly expression as she glared at her husband's mistress.

  
"In truth, she shall, Wife." The earl replied, handing his new mistress the porcelain pearls he had once gave his wife on a day of celebration. He wiped a drop of sweat off of his lovers forehead before lifting her hair and tying the clasp of pearls around her neck. He gently readjusted her hair, before placing a sweet kiss on her cheek. Lady Victoria watched with an eye of disgust.

  
"She shall wear the pearls and the new garments I instructed you to order, made for the birth." The earl kept his voice even but there was the unmistakable ring of authority laced within each of his words.

  
Lady Victoria bit her bottom lip, as a scathing comment came to mind. She dared not to voice it too harshly; but her husband was fickle when it came to his own needs and desire. She lowered her face to hide the scowl cast upon it, but not a moment later she raised her head. Her features were schooled and her lips smooth again, after years of training her stone face to display no emotion she had finally mastered the skill. She believed that women had much more control then men, hence why her husband had ended up in such a situation.

  
"My lord, am I to have no comforts? Would you reduce me to see my finery placed onto your new love? Would you humiliate me in front of the entire house staff?" Lady Victoria asked, she drawled out her questions, hoping to inflict some guilt onto her husband.

  
"You are a bitch, Victoria. A truly spoilt, pampered bitch." Lord Coulson replied. "Hear me out, wife! There shall be no dishonesty in my household. Share to anyone that you are without comforts, and I shall remove all your luxuries. I will have your chamber stripped of carpets and tapestries. Your wardrobe disembodied. Your fine gowns and jewels will be bestowed on my new love, and your rare spices to be locked in a cupboard. And then, and only then, will you be living without comfort."

  
Lord Coulson grabbed Lady Victoria by the arm. Turning her once again to face Audrey and their illegitimate child, Jemma. The Countess looked upon the pair with a curled lip. Audrey had a look of love struck on her face, a glint in her eye, as she gazed down at her newly born daughter, who was feeding happily.

  
Victoria had secretly wished that her husbands mistress would die during child birth, but there she sat looking the picture of good health and jubilance.

  
"You are shamed, Victoria. Shamed by your own cowardice." Lord Coulson's voice boomed in the silence of Victoria's hatred. "A coward. Unable to provide your husband with a son due to your own fear of child birth. Yet, I still offer you the chance to redeem yourself: give me a son and I swear, no other shall take your place. No-bastard-child set above your own children."

  
Victoria shook her head vigorously. Her thoughts drowning in fear as she recalled her last birth. Her hips were too narrow for the delivery, the birth too long - taking almost two days, her daughter Bethany had almost killed her. Over half of her friends had died in child labour, and Victoria refused to put herself in an early grave.

  
"I have given you a daughter- do you forget of our precious Bethany?" She questioned.

  
"No," Coulson replied. "I honour your for bringing her into this world, but I would honour you even more if you delivered me a son. I will set Audrey aside for you and a legitimate son, that is all I ask of you."

  
Her husband left her then. Joining the growing group of visitors, celebrating Audrey's survival of child birth. Today was her sitting-up ceremony, if she survived in two weeks time, she and the child would be cleansed and allowed back to church. It was a tradition older than Victoria herself, and if Audrey or the child did not survive within these two weeks, they would be denied burial in church ground.

  
Phil was sitting on the edge of the bed by his new mistress. He kissed her before attending to their child, running his hand gently across the child's head. The bed was draped in a lavish display, with thick tapestries covering the top. A fine linen, stained by the child birth hung in front of the window, for all visitors to touch in an act which would bring good fortune to the child. Or so was said.

  
Victoria took in the scene, noticing the mulled wine and luxury spices Audrey had at her command. Lords Coulson's private collection of spices, to which he had once entitled Victoria to when she had gave birth. Everything was laid out grandly, as it had been during Lord Coulson's first child's arrival, it sent bitterness through Victoria who resigned herself from the room, shaking her head in rejection of both the illegitimate child and Phil's offer. Though she refused to give Phil a son, Lady Victoria knew nothing of her status would change, she would still be the Mistress of the house, and she would still behold Lord Coulson's only legitimate child.


	2. Chapter One

Shield Castle, 1602

 

"Hurry up, Jemma. The Mistress is not very pleased today." Daisy, a loyal servant of the Castle, chastised.

  
"As if that is out of the ordinary." Jemma answered. She did not care much for her step mother, as her step mother did not care much for her. Over the years of her adolescence, Lady Victoria had condemned Jemma to labour work around the household. Making sure her husbands mistake would stay out of her sight for as long as possible, and doing so as miserably as possible.

  
Daisy tusked in disapproval, though she found the comment amusing she could not encourage such behaviour towards her employers or else they would both be in trouble. "Watch your tongue, Jemma. She is above you, as placed by God."

  
Jemma did not apologise, rather she busied herself with her morning chores. Sorting out a tray of enrichment, to serve for her Lady's breakfast. She knew Daisy was right. She did need to watch her tongue, not for herself, but for her mother. The Lady would happily place her wrath upon Audrey as well.

  
Once she finished organising her Lady's tray, she hurried to set it on the dining table, making sure the meal would still be hot when her Lady roused. Jemma then distracted herself with polishing the Mistresses cutlery. Gently rubbing through every crease and crevice on the ornamentally carved silver ware, noticing the distinct difference between her own cutlery and the cutlery of her Lady. Each of the Lady's silver ware was decorated with birds and flowers. Jemma heated the collection over a fire place, to ensure that the cutlery would be hot enough for use.

  
Taking note of the time, Jemma scurried upstairs to her Lady's chamber. An ensemble of staff were already awaiting for their Lady's awakening, one maid daring to open the curtains. Victoria then began her morning routine of complaints.

  
"My feet were cold last night." Her words spoken slowly as she eyed each member of staff with a careful eye. She paused before continuing, "The fire was not laid correctly: the coal lost its heat."

  
Another silence filled the chamber, and Victoria's dead eyes scorched Jemma's amber ones. "Tell the cook to present herself at noon." She instructed her, Jemma nodded her head slightly and dropped her gaze quickly as though looking at her Lady would burn her. Knowing that Alicia, the castles cook, would soon be sent to work in the fields. If she was lucky enough to still be in employment by the Castle. The lady was harsh enough to send anyone who did wrong by her on their way.

  
After another moment of staring, Victoria finally announced that she was ready to rise. Which meant Jemma and few of the staff would have to attend to the lady and help her dress.

  
Jemma handed over the luscious silks and velvets to one of the maids, fabrics which she had not been entitled to, despite her fathers position in the household. Jemma was pleased her step-sibling Bethany was not home. The fabrics which Bethany flaunted around the Courts in, only served to remind Jemma of the life she could have had. Yet, she was still grateful for her upbringing, she had more than most and that was enough. But sometimes she craved more.

  
On top of Bethany's gloating, Jemma was forced to listen to the whines of her step-sister as she moaned for the richer fabrics her friends at the Court donned and she did not. Lady Victoria would always find a way to purchase these fabrics for Bethany, and often took money from Jemma's savings to pay for it. This irked Jemma, every penny she had saved was one which she had earned. Her Lady did nothing, yet was granted everything in return.

  
Jemma had yet to bother her father with these problems, but as he was always working afar she had no time to tell him. There were times when she had considered blurting it out, but she would often realise that she couldn't possibly burden her father, that was something she refused to do. Not after all the trouble she had cast upon him with her illegitimacy.

  
It was that exact night, that her father returned from his travels.

  
"The master has returned, Mistress. And he wishes to see you immediately." Echoed through the grand halls of the castle. It was not uncommon for the Lord and his Lady to speak privately, but the Lord would never demand to see her straight upon his arrival. This piqued Jemma's, and other staffs, attention.

  
It wasn't until a maid was fetched to retrieve Bethany, that the entire Castle grew curious. Bethany was too narrow minded for most of her parents discussions, unable to understand a sentence longer than three words, and was therefore left out of many private matters.

  
Not ten minutes later, the staff had busied themselves with their work, only to be disturbed by the thud of a door, and the sight of a maid hurrying to catch the door, in order to prevent damage to the castle walls. Bethany scurried up the stairs, with Lady Victoria in tow chasing after her.

  
Bethany reached the top of the stairway, where Jemma was polishing the landing furniture, and pushed her out of the way.

  
"Move, you bastard!" She cursed, taking thunderous steps towards her bedroom in a hurry to get away from her mother.

  
Lady Victoria was just seconds behind her, and sent Jemma a cold glare as she walked by. "Follow us, immediately." She ordered.

  
Panic struck Jemma as she hastily followed her Lady, stopping the heavy door which Lady Victoria had threw open and stepping inside the lavish chamber.

  
"Is everything alright, My Lady?" Jemma's sweet voice did not sit well with her enraged stepmother.

  
With anger bursting from every pore in her body, she replied with force, "Does everything appear alright to you, bastard?"

  
Jemma had no response other than a small shake of her head. A silence swept over the room very briefly, the only sounds in the room for that brief second were the raging inhalations from her stepmother and the sniffling of her stepsister.

  
"Father has married me off!" Bethany finally wimped. Turning to her Lady she cried, "Oh, mother I don't want to go to scotland. Isn't there another way?"

  
Her mother was beside her immediately, "Now, that is enough from you, you know you cannot changed what has been done." Lady Victoria scolded.

  
"But mother, please!" Bethany pleaded. Jemma watched their interactions carefully, pleased that Bethany would finally be leaving. "Tell Father I will not go to any scots bed!" Bethany added, interrupting Jemma from her brief moment of inward celebration.

  
At that moment, Lord Coulson stepped into the room, an argument already prepared on the tip of his tongue. "But mother, nothing!" He intimidated with a voice of fire, his tone showed he was in no mood to be argued with. "You are and will go to Scotland, young lady, there will be no ceremony for you have already been married by proxy."

  
Jemma took joy in the way Bethany's bottom lip quivered. Taking utter delight in the fact that she would tend no longer to her step sibling.

  
"And I'll be damned, if you make a fool out of me, daughter. There is no way out of this. Besides, you should be pleased I have married you off to a titled man."

  
"Of Scots! Father, have you forgotten he is the enemy?" Bethany's voiced portrayed betrayal, but the look on Lord Coulson's face showed he would not fall for any guilt trips.

  
"Times are changing, daughter. Our enemies are our allies. And soon enough, we will be one country living under rule by one King. This marriage will only show solidity between two former enemies. In addition, I believe Lord Fitz would provide a much better match for you than any of your friends at the Court."

  
The earl turned his head to look at his wife, but instead his gaze strayed to Jemma. He noticed the way her lips were uncontrollably turned upwards in a joyous smile, even with her head tilted downwards. A glint caught in his eye, he had little time to spend with his daughter but there was no doubt that he did not cherished her dearly. Lord Coulson almost found himself returning the smile, before his stare was redirected to his wife. The shimmer in his eye darkened immediately.

  
"Must she marry?" Her Lady questioned, a low hiss punctuating her sentence.

  
Anger refuelled within Lord Coulson. "Good God, woman! She is twenty nine years of age. She has turned away every titled man I have presented to her. Following your lead, as you turned your nose up at each match I made. It is my own fault for allowing you both a say in the matter. Though it is your fault for allowing our daughter to be so spoilt. Bethany should have been wed several years ago, perhaps even birthed a child by now, but I put off any engagements in hopes she would agree to one herself. She has been part of the court for eleven years." His tongue burned with relief, as the words he had dared to speech finally roared off his lips.

  
Bethany took no notice of her fathers words, focusing on one thing alone, "But he's a Scot!" She whimpered yet again before throwing herself onto her bed.

  
"He's an earl. His land borders our own, -" Victoria began but was cut off by her husband.

  
He looked at his wife with displeasure as he pointed out his daughters childishness. The arguing continued much longer than necessary, in Jemma's opinion. Her legs had grown tired from a day of hard work, and standing around uselessly in a room searing with tension. To Jemma, the terms of the marriage seemed reasonable. Bethany had brought it upon herself having declined many prospective bachelors. But as Jemma watched the argument draw to a close, she finally excused herself. Her father following her immediately to the hallways of which she, her mother and her sister, Bobbi, lived in.

  
Bobbi, despite being taller than Jemma, was actually younger. Their mother had birthed Lord Coulson a second daughter precisely two years after Jemma's own birth, they named her Barbara after Lord Coulson's grandmother Lady Barbara Carter. Though many disapproved of the Lord naming his illegitimate child after a cherished relative, finding it disrespectful, Coulson couldn't help but find it fitting.

  
"I have missed you all so terribly." Lord Coulson admitted as he greeted the three.

  
Jemma smirked at her mother and sisters shock, knowing that their father had trailed behind her. She basked in the sight of seeing her family happy. Unbeknownst to Jemma, that it would be the last time she would see her family as whole for a short while.


	3. Chapter Two

 

From a young age, it had became tradition for Jemma and her father to watch the sunrise the first morn after his arrival. Though, on most days Jemma was already awake performing her chores before sunrise, she never had the chance to see and usually reserved herself from seeing such a sight without her father by her side.

  
After watching the sun rise in a peaceful silence with her father, Jemma could only pray that she would one day be able to carry on such a tradition with her own children. Despite her position in society, Jemma still had hopes of having a husband and children one day. A family of her own who she could treat with more love than Victoria had for herself. She knew deep down that this was near the impossible.

  
Whilst walking back through the hallways, having watched the sunrise, Jemma was stopped by her sister Bobbi, who appeared to be quite adamant that she speak with Jemma.

  
Sadly, Isabelle, the Lady's head maid, caught the pair stood in the hallway. Knowing there was work to be done, and that there was no time to spare, she sent the pair down to the kitchens where they would be needed to help clean.

  
In between scrubbing, the pair made light conversation. Waiting until they were alone to continue what Bobbi had been so eager to discuss.

  
"Do you think you will ever wed, Jemma?"

  
The question caught Jemma off guard. Just a few hours prior she had been imagining continuing a family tradition with her own children, but when faced with the question herself Jemma knew that her situation would prove her unlikely to find love. She had already been shamed for being born out of wedlock, and though her sister was only two years younger than herself, Bobbi had not bared as much torment as she had.

  
Jemma shied away from the question, "Oh, I don't know. It's-I don't think that it- I've never dreamed of..." Jemma paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Why do you ask?"

  
It was Bobbi's turn to shy away, after a long thoughtful pause, Bobbi looked around making sure they were indeed alone. "I had another dream last night," she began.

  
"As in one of your...dreams?" Jemma asked for confirmation. Bobbi nodded. It was unexplainable, really, every so often Bobbi would see something in her dreams which would come true not long after. "What did you see?"

  
"That you will have a husband," Bobbi stated bluntly.

  
Jemma let out a long sigh, whether in relief or anticipation she was not sure. "Oh! You must mean the Scot, Lady Bethany's husband." Jemma nodded to herself, making sense of Bobbi's statement, yet for some reason she felt a twinge of sadness.

  
"No, Jemma, you don't understand. He was your husband, not Lady Bethany's." She amended with such confidence that Jemma almost believed her, "He's coming for you. In fact, if my memory serves me right, he is on his way now."

  
Jemma let out an exasperated breath, "Bobbi, I'm not sure what you think you saw but-"

  
"No, Jemma listen to me!" Bobbi interrupted. "By next spring you will become with child. It will be a boy born before harvest moon. I saw it in my dream." Jemma hesitated to reply, so Bobbi felt the need to quickly elaborate. "But do not worry, you will survive... I saw that, too."

  
"Lady Bethany is married by proxy to a Scot, clearly this is her future you saw."

  
"Jemma, I am able to see the difference between my own sister and that wench. I saw you riding with him. He has cerulean eyes." Bobbi replied in a easy tone.

  
Before Jemma could deny this yet again, Isabelle entered the kitchen. Relieving Jemma of scrubbing duty and informing her that Lady Victoria wished to see her.

  
Jemma knocked on the door to her Lady's chamber. She jumped when not a moment later, her Lady appeared at the door, dragging Jemma by her forearm into the room.

  
"Lady Bethany would like to take her bath now, I need you to attend to her." Lady Victoria instructed.

  
Jemma was rather taken aback by the request. Lady Bethany was always seen to by the hands of her first hand maid Kara. In addition to that, Lady Bethany hated her, so why would she request Jemma's help with her bathing?

  
"Well, what are you waiting for? We have little time to waste!" Lady Bethany herself, snapped.

  
"Yes, my lady." Jemma replied, scurrying out the chamber to retrieve some hot water.

  
Jemma kept her steps tiny, hurrying to the kitchens before retracing her steps up the stairs, this time with a large steaming cooper jug in each hand. Jemma used her foot to knock lowly on the door, alerting her presence.

  
"Enter." A voice came from within. Unable to open the door with two hands full, Jemma placed one of the jugs on the floor before opening it.

  
Entering, Jemma noticed that Lady Bethany was still dressed. Jemma stared on in confusion, as she placed the jugs of water in front of the fireplace. Taking note of the lengths of linen warming above the fire on a rack, and a myriad of jugs lined up near the bathtub for rinsing. Expensive soaps coated a corner of the bath tub, sitting on a silver tray, ready for use.

  
"Bar the door, Bethany." Lady Victoria ordered. Bethany looked as shocked as Jemma at Lady Victoria's words. Victoria frowned at her daughter, "Hurry up, Bethany. We need secrecy, not whispering amongst the staff. Unless you have changed your mind, in which case you may bathe now."

  
Bethany shook her head vehemently. Crossing the room, she placed a thick wooden beam across the door before resettling her gaze on Jemma.

  
"Dump that water, Jemma." Jemma silently obeyed and reached for a jug, wrapping her skirts around the tip as she poured the water into the bathtub.

  
"Take off that dress and get in, Jemma." Turning, Jemma looked at her Lady, certain she had misunderstood. When she met her Lady's eye, Victoria was staring straight at her with authority in her gaze.

  
"You are to bathe, Jemma. Bethany and I shall help you."

  
"Here?" Jemma asked. The servants of the house never bathed in a chamber, especially not one which belonged to another.

  
"Yes, here. You will get in the bath tub and be washed from head to toe." Victoria looked at her expectantly, "Disrobe. Now." The hatred in her voice clear as she demanded Jemma undress.

  
Jemma simply continued to stare blankly at her. Hate was an ugly thing, an emotion which distorted Victoria's features.

  
"Disrobe, Jemma. You are to take Bethany's place with this Scottish earl."

  
"I shall do no such thing." A gasp echoed in Jemma's words, shock preventing her tongue from finding a more fiery response.

  
Victoria smiled at her. A slow curving of her lips which sent shivers down Jemma's spine.

  
"You think not? You shall do as I tell you, or else I will turn your mother out on the streets without so much as a coat or loaf of bread."

  
Jemma gasped, horror flooding through her. "My father would not allow such a thing."

  
"Your father is not here, if I am to turn your mother out tonight she will be dead long before he returns."

  
Jemma's hand immediately found her own mouth, covering it and hiding her disgust. "That is murder, my Lady. A punishable sin." She breathed.

  
"I see it as justice." Victoria spoke with conviction. Quirking an eyebrow she continued, "It is a simple price to avoid."

  
Victoria stepped forward, reaching for the straps of Jemma's linen cap. She pulled away the ties and took it off of Jemma's head.

  
"You will bathe and dress as I direct you."

  
Jemma's breath was shaky as she protested, "I cannot."

  
Victoria smiled once again, "You will, and you will play your part perfectly unless you would like your siblings to suffer unkind fates." When Jemma's eyes widened, Victoria let out a viscous snicker.

  
"You are despicable."

  
"I am the lady of this house, and my word is law." Triumph danced in Victoria's eyes, her chin tilted upwards, she pointed towards the bath signalling for Jemma to get in.

  
"I am not a liar," Jemma answered in truth, "I will not deceive a man. I do not know how."

  
"There will be no need for lies, you are the earls daughter. You are being sent to the Scots bed. Simply keep that mouth of yours shut, and all will be well. When you find yourself with child, you will beg to return home to have your mother by your side for the birth. You see? It is simple."

  
Jemma scoffed in disgust and disbelief, "Surely, you do not think the earl is so dim witted that he will not notice you have switched his wife for another."

  
"He will soon return to battle once you are with child, your face easily forgotten. No man has any interest in a pregnant woman, once you are with child he will return to the battlefields more often than not, he will have mistresses for sure." Victoria's words cut at her like a knife, "Once the child is born, he will return from war to see his son. From there, changing places with be easy. He won't even recognise you, or remember what colour hair you have. But mark my words, girl. You better produce him a son, we cannot wait years for you to do so."

  
"I cannot play part in such a cruel scheme. My father has already bound Bethany this man."

  
"I will still be giving the earl a daughter, a different daughter, yet still his child."

  
"You have no authority to do that."

  
"I am the Lady of this house." Victoria ground out. Victoria yet again, reminded Jemma of the punishments her mother and sister would receive if she declined.

  
Jemma looked at her Lady, and knew that whatever was shining in her eyes was pure evil. Not once in her life, did Jemma believe anyone could be so foul, but Lady Victoria proved her wrong. A glance at Bethany, showed Jemma the life of a woman who placed her own comforts before the servants who brought her such delicates and delights. There was no hint of mercy on Bethany's face, however, there was a twinge of fear dancing in her eyes at the thought that Jemma would refuse to do her bidding.

  
Jemma shivered, recoiling at what the Lady had asked of her, to take Bethany's place in the bed of her wedded. An act which reduced Jemma to using her body in sin. But there was no choice to be made, Jemma would put her love of her family before herself. Reaching for the top button of her doublet, she sighed in defeat.

  
"There. I am pleased to see you are acting within reason." Lady Victoria stated, before snapping her gaze away and setting in upon her daughter. "Help her, Bethany! We have to see this finished before any of the maids become suspicious. We have already wasted enough time arguing."

  
Jemma's doublet dropped away, and Bethany attacked the lace ties of her skirts. Her skirt eventually dropped, pooling her ankles and Jemma remained in her chemise and undergarments. Jemma began to feel weary at the idea that she would have to bathe naked in front of her fathers other family. She had never bared herself nude to anyone. Usually, when bathing she was resigned to wearing her chemise, as the servants bathtub was not placed in a private room.

  
Once fully unclothed, Jemma felt the scrutiny of both women, she glanced upwards to see Lady Victoria looking upon her with a curled lip of disgust. It was the same look Lady Victoria donned whenever Jemma's mother crossed her paths.

  
"In with you." Was all her Lady said, and as Jemma entered the bath, she found herself quite disheartened by the fact that she could not enjoy such a pleasant bath. She had never had the delight of having such expensive soaps. Suddenly, Jemma was torn away from her thoughts by a splash of water. Bethany had began helping her bathe, using the jugs lined alongside the fireplace to rinse Jemma before handing her costly soaps.

  
The scented French soaps glided with ease across her skin, no wonder Victoria enjoyed her baths so much, if Jemma had been entitled to such glorious soaps she, too, would linger. But there was no time for lingering, for Lady Bethany used rough motions to wash Jemma's hair, and within a quarter of an hour, Jemma was standing in front of the fireplace with warm linen wrapped around her.

  
Once Jemma was dressed in a fine chemise, royal blue dress and a quilted petticoat, all of which belonged to Bethany, Lady Victoria handed her some stockings and a veil.

  
"You must be prepared at all times." She said before adjusting the veil on her head. "The veil will cover your identity from the house staff." Victoria explained, before grabbing Jemma by the wrists in a tight grip. "You will remain in the upper alcove until I come to get you, understand? If you cross my paths once, I will throw your mother out on the street before you can even protest." She let go of Jemma's wrists with force.

  
"Alright, now get up those stairs. Bethany will see to it that you receive some food. Now go." Jemma did not hesitate to leave the chamber, wishing to get away from the wicked pair and be left to her own thoughts. The instructions of her Lady faded as she walked away.

  
"...Bethany, pick up that uniform. You'll have to wear that to leave Shield, we can't have you seen or all of our efforts will have been for nothing..."

  
Jemma climbed a narrow flight of stone steps. Squinting her eyes in the harsh darkness of the stairway, and hugging her sides to protect herself from the cold ascendant.

  
She reached the small chamber which was filled with near full bookshelves and useless pottery.

  
Jemma did not know how long she spent doubting the scheme, worrying for her family and pondering about her new husband. But when she looked out of the small window, she noted that dawn had almost descended. The suns coral hues illuminated the room as best as they could, with such little access however only the centre of the room was lit. It was enough light to bring a parchment and ink into view. An idea struck into Jemma's mind. She would write her father a letter.

  
Sitting down she pulled the cork out of the inkwell. Lifting a quill, Jemma dipped it in ink before laying the tip against a fresh sheet of paper. She wrote carefully, making sure each letter was formed with such skill that it would be readable. Her ears were dedicated to the stairway, listening out carefully for the sound of footsteps which could interrupt her from revealing all to her father.

  
Having finally written the letter, explaining all, she pondered how she would deliver it. She could not send it from afar, especially not from Scotland, her Lady would grow suspicious and read it. She had no time to deliver it to the courts nor any other part of town. Looking around, Jemma noticed the estate logs sitting on the desk closest to the bookshelves. Knowing that her father would look in the books to pay the Castle staff, she grabbed one. Though, it would be another four months until Lord Coulson reviewed the books, she declared to herself that she would not follow the Lady's orders so meekly, and would still put up a fight. Whether or not she was successful was another matter.

  
She sealed the letter with a stamp, though she did not use the castles stamp, just in case Lady Victoria happened to stumble upon the letter, though that was unlikely. Lady Victoria never helped with the estate.

  
Setting the book aside, into a safe place where her father would likely find it and Victoria would not, she sat herself down onto the dust coated floor. Her stomach rumbled but Jemma ignored it. She had passed far longer without food, under much more strain of work.

  
Soon enough, however, Lady Bethany appeared with a tray of food.

  
Her step sibling half-shrugged. "I am not use to serving, so I forgot to bring you something at midday." She set the tray down with a thunk, before turning to look around the small chamber. "Mother says you must sleep here, so I am to fetch you some bedding for the night." This was the first ounce of kindness both her Lady and Bethany had shown to her in her entire lifetime. "It is so boring waiting for this husband to arrive. Mother says I cannot return to the court until you have a baby. I wish he would hurry up!"

  
_Selfish brat!_

  
Jemma waited until Bethany left to retrieve some bedding, before muttering to herself. She hoped Bethany had the sense to bring her something warm for her nights stay in the alcove, as there was no fireplace, nor glass to cover the window. Looking over at the tray of food, Jemma noticed that there was no cutlery to be used. Instead, she dipped her finger into the porridge, which had became cold and had started to congeal. There was no ale or cider to be drank with her meal, nothing but a small pitcher of milk. Jemma took the tiniest slip, saving some milk for later, so that she could wash down the cold, lumpy porridge.

  
Jemma heard footsteps trailing up the alcove stairway, yet again. Bethany had returned with some bedding. Huffing, she dumped whatever she had brought onto the floor with a loud bang. "This will have to do. I can't go hauling pallets from the servants quarters, or else the staff will become suspicious." Was all she said before descending down the alcove.

  
Jemma reapplied her attention to the tray of congealed porridge, stale bread and surprisingly appealing tarts. The two tarts contrasted the array of food on the tray, due to the fact that they seemed actually edible. A single tear trailed down her face as she remembered a time when she and her mother had been lucky enough to steal some tarts from the kitchen without getting caught. It was a joyous day, one which Jemma treasured dearly. And now, Jemma worried that she would not see her mother for quite some time.

  
She only hoped that her efforts would be worth the cost, if her mother or sister were to come into harms way, Jemma would reveal the truth no matter the outcome for herself. Victoria had promised her no harm would come to either of them so long as she did as expected of her.

  
The sun disappeared and with it the light faded. There were no candles to light in the alcove, as all candles were locked away in a cupboard in the servants quarters. Jemma resigned herself to sleeping on the floor, with the thin blanket and pillow which Bethany had provided. Her stomachs rumbles died down, and she told herself that a half filled belly was easier to endure than an empty one.

  
With darkness enclosing in on her, Jemma's doubts began to surface. Despair wrapped around her, as she picked up her cloak to add an extra layer of heat in the chambers cold. But then an icy fear began to grip at her as her heart ached at the realisation she could not say goodbye to her family. She considered sneaking down to do so, but knew the cost if she were to be caught. With nothing but darkness to keep her company, there was nothing to stop the tears dripping down her face. Somewhere along the line, she drifted into a light sleep. Though when she awoke hours later, she felt more tired than when she first fell asleep. Her eyes burned, and her fingers were sore from gripping the cloak so tightly to her chest. Her toes felt like ice in her boots. Moving hurt. But then so did lying still.

  
Moments after she stood and stretched her aching limbs, Jemma heard a call come from outside the Castle.

  
Her eyes widened when she realised the Scot had arrived.

  
So the moment was here...may the Lord forgive her enough to allow her to live.

  
"Hurry!" Bethany was out of breath when she reached Jemma, she gestured frantically for Jemma to follow her to Lady Victoria's chamber. Jemma's stomach knotted, with each step of her descendant she was certain that her soul was going lower and lower into damnation.

  
"There you are!" Lady Victoria hissed. "I hope your attitude has improved over the night." She meant to sound menacing, but all Jemma could hear was the sheer panic within her voice. "Yes. Good. Bethany, fetch her the French hood with the veil." She nodded to herself, making sure Jemma looked appropriate for approval.

  
Bethany lifted a brown French hood from a chair, pulling the rim over Jemma's head. The hood was low enough to reach her ears, the veil down her back reached her waist. Ladies in her town, often wore veils to protect their makeup from the snow. Bethany reached for the veil and brought it over her face, the veil now hung just above her waist. "Perfect! That shall keep that staff from outing us!" She smiled in triumph, whilst Jemma pressed her lips down into a hard line.

  
A large thump landed itself on the door, and Lady Victoria turned quickly to her daughter with a smile, "Hide now, Bethany! Quickly, my treasure!" Bethany did as she asked, giggling merrily to herself as she did so.

  
Victoria looked on with a glint in her eyes which Jemma did not recognise. The moment she set her gaze back on Jemma, the shine vanished. As did her kind smile. Victoria whispered, "Best remember that as soon as you are with child, you must tell the Scot that you wish to return home to your mother." Jemma merely nodded. "Enter."

  
The captain of guards appeared, lowering himself before Lady Victoria. "The Earl of Perthshire awaits you in the courtyard, my lady." The guard spoke. Surprisingly, he too, was English.

  
"We are ready." Victoria smiled, grabbing Jemma by the arm, her fingers digging into flesh. "Indeed we are". She repeated mostly to herself.

  
As Jemma arrived at the courtyard, she was shocked to see an army of men who looked fairly normal. From what her Lady had told her, the Scots were ruthless scavengers, large and untameable, who would harm anyone in their way. From first look, Jemma believed these men looked nothing like the savages Lady Victoria had described. In fact, they looked quite friendly if she were honest with herself. Still, Jemma's stomach knotted anxiously as her eyes found the man she would soon call husband.

  
"He will come for you." Bobbi's words echoed in Jemma's mind. His hair was an undefinable colour, a casting between blonde and brown, and his eyes seemed to be a blue sea of hope, Bobbi had certainly been correct about the cerulean part. A lingering fear cropped up into Jemma's mind, what else had Bobbi been right about?

  
The man stepped forward. He spoke in earnest to Lady Victoria and herself, and Jemma's mind suddenly went blank. She did not know what was going on, other than the fact that this mans name was Leopold Fitz, and that he was now her husband- temporarily. She lost her thought in the sound of his voice. Mesmerised by his accent. It wasn't until her Lady spoke that she pulled herself from her daze.

  
"...and I would be so glad if you could accept our hospitality." Jemma knew that this was a lie.

  
Though it appeared that the earls attention was no longer on her Lady's kind pretence, but on herself. She saw his eyebrows draw together as he tried to see past the veil. But to no fortune.

  
The earl kept his eyes on Jemma as he replied to Lady Victoria, "I regret that I don't have time to enjoy your kind invitation. I must return home." Finally he turned his attention back to her Lady.

  
"I understand." Victoria spoke too quickly, "Truly, I understand." A smile of delight gracing her lips.

  
The earl seemed to hesitate for a moment before responding, "Good, um, I will do right my word. Your daughter shall be escorted safely."

  
"Thank you, sir." In all her life, Jemma had never heard Victoria sound so meek. Jemma turned to face Victoria, she was met with an expressionless face. "Now, Bethany, mind your duty and greet your lord respectfully."

  
Jemma turned to Lord Fitz, bowing her head slightly, "My Lord."

  
"My Lady." He held his out his hand, his palm facing upwards. A shiver went through her as she stared it at. She stared at it a moment longer than she should have before placing her hand in his own outreached one, at the insisting pinch of her Lady. His hand enveloping her own, as he curled his fingers.

  
Lord Fitz looked his bride over, searching her veil in attempts to make out her face. After a moment, he gave up, turning to guide his bride to his men and horse.

  
A single black steed awaited for them, and with the help of his guard captain, Lord Fitz was able to lift Jemma up onto the horse, before settling himself behind her.

  
Jemma gasped at the feel of him behind her. He brought one arm to wrap around her waist to steady her. "Is this alright?" His voice was grave.

  
Jemma cleared her throat before letting out a quiet, "Yes." She turned to see the Castle staff waving her goodbye, shouting their best wishes as Jemma and her new husband rode away from the Castle. Jemma squinted, but could not find her mother and sister within the crowd.

  
Jemma turned around sharply, withdrawing herself from the staffs goodbyes and focusing on holding back her tears. Though she knew Lord Fitz could not see her, nor any of the other men due to her veil, she did not want to risk sobbing loudly. Instead she focused on the path in front of her, she watched in silence as her surroundings changed from the courtyard to the village to the hills and highlands beyond her humble town. She listened to the deep voice of Lord Fitz as he talked of nonsense with the captain of the guards, who she had learned was named Lance, finding comfort in the rise and fall of his chest, and the way is vibrated against her back as he laughed gallantly.

  
Despite initially feeling perturbed, Jemma found that there was something comforting about Lord Fitz. Perhaps it was the way he wrapped his arm protectively around her waist. Or the way that he would ask how she was feeling every so often. Or maybe, it was the simple fact that he was taking her away from Shield, to his castle in Perthshire, someplace far away from Lady Victoria and Bethany. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because whatever time she would spend with Lord Fitz, would reflect a microcosm of a lifestyle she could have had. A lifetime of watching sunrises by windows, of costly soaps, of stolen tarts, and even stolen kisses.

  
If Jemma wasn't careful, she might find herself attached to this lifestyle, and even Lord Fitz himself. Goodness, she hadn't even arrived at his castle yet and she was already planning out a future for the two of them.

  
All of a sudden, Jemma was reminded of Bobbi's dream. According to Bobbi, Jemma would give birth by the next harvest moon. That was too soon for Jemma's liking, too soon for Bethany to corrupt Lord Fitz and ruin his home. So, Jemma devised a plan that she would prolong the consummation of the marriage for as long as possible.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented, and left kudos, I'm really grateful for all your support! :'D
> 
> Anyway, for those of you who may dislike smut, I should warn you that this chapter gets a little heated, especially at the end, thought it's not the worst to come, however I would rate it around an M? Maybe? I'm not sure with the ratings, but just to warn you.

Lord Fitz didn't call a halt until the sun had almost descended. It was only when a pink stain coloured the horizon that he put out a hand, his men and their black steeds stopping immediately. His men seemed to be quite associated with the gesture, as they quickly dismounted and began setting up camp for the night.

  
The spot Lord Fitz had chosen was sheltered in trees, and a collection of branches that camouflaged their presence. Large boulders covered them where the branches could no longer. Jemma watched as some of the men set up a single tent, she assumed that this was the tent she and Fitz would be sharing for the night. Jemma shivered at the thought, she hoped that Fitz did not expect anything of her tonight, especially not in such a public place. She couldn't bare for him to feel rejected, however she needed to prolong becoming with child for as long as she was possibly able.

  
Jemma shook her head of any unholy thoughts which had gathered in her mind, instead choosing to focus on the men preparing a fire before redirecting her focus to three other, who tied up their horses to steady tree branches. As soon as all the men finished, they broke off into little groups of threes or fours, making conversation with one another, an enjoyable mumbling of deep voices rejoicing in her ears. Jemma then noticed her husband sulking slightly as he engaged in conversation with one of the larger built men. It was clear that he was not going to make his way over anytime soon, having only inquired about her wellbeing every so often on their journey and making no other attempts of conversing. Soon enough, Jemma became bored and desperately parched. Having drank all the contents of the leather wine flask that Lord Fitz had provided for her, which was deceivingly filled with water as opposed to the mead she had expected, she decided to take a slow stroll down to the lake and refill it.

  
Arriving at the lake, Jemma propped her feet up on the rocks, mindful to lift her skirts over her thighs before leaning down to refill the flask. The night air was cold against the bare skin above her stockings ending, goosebumps rose quickly over the exposed skin. Finally filled, Jemma straightened, twisting the lid tightly back onto the leather flask before taking a step back onto the soiled forest floor and releasing her skirts from her tight grip. Heat enveloped her legs once more, and Jemma was grateful that Bethany's dresses had more layers than her own.

  
Suddenly, Jemma was interrupted from her own thoughts by the sound of a male cough. Jemma turned with a gasp. It was Lance.

  
"Are you seriously intent on leaving for home in the middle of the night? After everything your Lord has done to fetch you?" He questioned, and there was a flash of incredulity in his eyes.

  
She realised then the mistake she had earlier made, having previously found it delightful that there was another Englishman joining her on her journey - possibly someone who understood why she felt so out of place, she now realised that the man did not trust her. "Of course not, I was simply refilling the flask." She explained.

  
Lance snorted, "And you did that little chore without so much as telling anyone, slipping away into the dark of the night as quiet as can be."

  
"I certainly didn't think of it like that." She should have. It was an error on her part, Bethany would have sent someone to refill her flask, never mind how busy the men may be.

  
"I'm sure your Lord would appreciate it if you stayed with his men, we cannot afford to lose you to another clan all because you wanted to 'refill your flask'. I suppose I should tell Fitz about your tendency to attempt fleeing, amongst other things."

  
"I was not trying to flee." Jemma protested, before she tensed at his final statement. "What do you mean 'amongst other things'?"

  
Lance scoffed yet again, "Oh don't feign innocence, my Lady, I'm well aware of the...activities, shall we say, you've engaged in during your time at the court. Does the name, Sir Grant Ward ring any bells?"

  
Jemma felt affronted at such an accusation, for both herself and surprisingly Bethany. "I pretend nothing!" She exclaimed in defence at his presumption, as for Sir Grant Ward, Jemma was certain that those were two completely different people.

  
Lance answered with a 'hmmm', before looking over Jemma's shoulder. "Well then, we'll let Fitz be the judge of that. And speak of the devil."

  
Jemma turned around to see her new husband walking down the slope of the forest. He noticed the smug expression on Lances face, he was quite familiar with such a look and immediately felt the need to defend his wife.

  
"Leave her be, Lance." Lord Fitz started in an exasperated and tired tone.

  
"As you wish, my Lord." The cocky smile was clear in his voice as he held his hands up in mock surrender and took a slow walk up the slope, leaving the two to themselves.

  
A moment of silence past as the pair watched Lance disappear out of their sights. Lord Fitz turned to Jemma, "Are you alright? Lance didn't do or say anything narking to you, did he? He tends to do that sometimes."

  
Jemma shook her head slowly, "No, he didn't, he was...just making sure I didn't get myself into any trouble, that is all. Thank you, Lord Fitz."

  
"Oh, um, just Fitz will suffice." Another moment of silence descended upon the pair before Fitz finally broke the ice, "I thought it was against the law to be a nun in England." He stated, nodding his head towards her veil. Jemma realised he was trying to make a joke.

  
She chuckled softly, a sweet noise which caused the most endearing look to fall on Fitz's face. "Oh, would you prefer me to take it off, my lor-Fitz?"

  
Fitz nodded his head once in a deliberate motion, watching as her slight hands unstrapped the veil from her head and delicately removed it.

  
Jemma looked up at him through her eyelashes, feeling insecure and bare, only to feel overwhelmed and flushed by the descry of Fitz's mouth hanging agape at the sight of his bride. His gaze intense as he searched her features, engraving them into his mind.

  
Without acknowledging the act until it was too late, Fitz brought a hand up to Jemma's cheek, his thumb gliding gently across her cheekbone once. When Jemma did not move away from his touch, Fitz allowed his fingers to linger for a moment longer, delighting in the way her breath hitched as he soothed over the curves of her face. Tracing her cheekbone once, then twice before trailing down to touch her lips with his finger tips. Jemma met his eyes as his fingers continued down to her chin, tilting it ever so slightly and- Jemma suddenly felt heat flood to her cheeks and a shiver down her spine. Immediately she recoiled, turning around on the heel of her foot as though his touch had burned her.

  
Jemma inwardly scolded herself, she hadn't meant to embarrass him nor herself for that matter. She simply needed to resist him, she told herself. Him and his gentle caresses. Despite herself, Jemma still brought a hand up to trace her cheek, hoping Fitz could not see as she mimicked his phantom touch gliding down towards her lips again.

  
"Bethany," his voice interrupted her, her eyes snapping open, as she had momentarily forgotten he was there. "Look at me, Bethany." His voice was weak, and Jemma felt awfully guilt for turning away from him the way she did.

  
"Bethany?" He repeated, the sound of her step siblings name lead her to recoil slightly. His voice was like a plea, and when he placed his hand upon her shoulder, a notion of begging and comfort, Jemma found she could no longer ignore him. She turned slowly.

  
He smiled softly at her, once she was facing him fully, he brought both his hands to hold the sides of her face. He looked down at her fondly, pleased to find that she had not decorated herself immensely in makeup as many of the women at the court often did.

  
Fitz allowed himself a moment to look at her closely. Taking satisfaction in the way that every so often, Jemma would allow her gaze to linger on his lips, and the way that she would lick her own after staring for so long.

  
Slowly, as not to startle her, Fitz touched his mouth to hers. Pleased she did not jerk away this time, he allowed his hands to drop down to her waist after a moment or so. Not long after his hands met her hips, Jemma followed suite and kissed him back. What began as a gentle press of the lips and lingering, soon became something much more heated. A gentle taste of Jemma's tongue caused Fitz to pull her tight against his form. Fitz wrapped his arms more securely around Jemma's waist, whilst Jemma placed her own hands around his neck.

  
Jemma shivered as the tip of his tongue glided across her lower lip. Rippling sensations crawled down her back, and an audible gasp escaped her lips. Her hands unlocked around his neck, flattening against his chest with a newly fuelled desire which sprang to life in the tips of her wandering fingers. She met his lips repeatedly. With both quick and lingering flicks of tongue, Jemma began to question whether her knees had always been so weak and shaky. Sadly, forming thoughts to answer this question became cumbersome and pointless to Jemma, so instead she settled for tightening her grip on Fitz.

  
Fitz had just began to tease her upper lip, again, tasting her, when suddenly Lance appeared midway down the slope. "I take it neither of you are interested in supper, then?" He called, interrupting the pair.

  
His voice full of glee as he stumbled down the slope to meet the two. Jemma's eyes widened in horror. What was she thinking? She was meant to be resisting him, how could she allow herself to torture the man. (and herself, if she were honest) in such a way. Jemma pushed against Fitz's chest, causing him to frown and step back but only slightly, his arms dropping to his own sides.

  
"You don't look like my manservant." Fitz observed.

  
Lance smiled boyishly at his friend. "That's because you don't have one."

  
"Oh, but I do." Fitz countered, a smile tugging on his lips despite his irked tone, "The man just has the sense to be invisible, when needed. Like you should be."

  
Lance chuckled, "Good to know your wits have improved. Now, about supper, we should probably get it now before the others eat our portions. Besides I'm bloody starving, and we can't have Lady Bethany here going to bed with an empty stomach, can we? I'm sure she'll be needing all the energy she can muster for tonight." He added, with a wiggle of his eyebrows which distracted Jemma momentarily from his crude comment.

  
Snapping back to her senses, Jemma turned abruptly back to Fitz. "Surely, not tonight!" She spoke with authority, before remembering herself. "I mean, not here." Or simply not at all, Jemma stated inwardly.

  
Fitz was thankful for the darkness which embraced them, as he was sure Lance would tease him endlessly about the crimson blush he now donned. Shocked at his wife's statement, Fitz looked back at Lance for help. Fitz was sure Lance, a man who claimed to know how to handle women, would find the right words for him.

  
Lance gave Fitz a solemn nod of his head before turning back to Jemma. "What reason could you have for denying your husband such a right?" He asked. Consummation of ones wedding night was tradition, after all.

  
Fitz groaned audibly at Lance. A flustered hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He exhaled loudly before facing Jemma, placing a hand on either side of her lower arms. If she were able to see his face, she would be able see the kindness in his gaze. "We can wait," he reassured her, his thumbs soothing over the fabric on her arms, "I understand why this may not be the right place, hardly any privacy for such an act. And I could never force you into doing something you did not wish to do." He settled upon, and decided that despite what Lance said, he didn't really need his help when talking to a woman. Especially not when speaking with Bethany. He had been so nervous over finding something to say to her, other than asking about her wellbeing, but just less than five minutes ago his tongue had duelled against her own.

  
Once Fitz had finished speaking, Jemma nodded mostly to herself. Here was a man who could possibly wait until she was ready before even thinking of consummating their marriage. Well, Jemma wasn't completely confident that the thought wouldn't cross his mind, because she knew the wait would be torturous for both of them, but she knew he would wait and Jemma found comfort in that. Perhaps she could tamper with Bobbi's vision, surely some things weren't inevitable.

  
The three returned to the camp after Jemma thanked Fitz for such a kind offer, whilst Lance only shook his head, ashamed that Fitz had already allowed his wife to become his master.

  
The supper was cold by the time the three arrived, but Jemma was grateful none the less as this time her food was only cold, and not congealed as it had been the night prior. Whilst eating her meal, Jemma felt the eyes of almost all the men upon her as though she were so mystic creature. Fitz noticed the way she was unable to meet any of the men's gaze, and took this as Jemma feeling uncomfortable. Coughing loudly, Fitz gave his men a stern look which showed his disapproval of their gawking. Immediately all the men returned their gazes to their own meals. Jemma looked up, finally, and caught Fitz's gaze. She smiled graciously at him, a gentle curve of her lips which Fitz couldn't help but return. Jemma looked shy once Fitz returned her smile, bowing her head down as soon as she saw a smile tug on his lips. Fitz found the act endearing. Unknown to him, that Jemma was in fact feeling guilty for misusing him.

  
Soon enough, all of the men took their positions on the floor, with thicker quilts than Bethany had provided Jemma with the night before, to cover and protect them. Along with another blanket placed beneath them, to separate their bodies from the soiled forest floor.

  
Suddenly, Jemma felt a little out of place, unknowing what to do with herself she followed Fitz into their shared tent. The tent was large enough to fit three large soldiers, and since neither she nor Fitz were built hugely there was an excessive amount of space to be shared. Which was why Jemma shocked both herself and Fitz, when she lay directly besides him with nothing but an inch of space between them.

  
Jemma was unsure how long they both lay there unable to sleep, but somewhere along the line they had both turned onto their sides, facing the other. The air between them appeared to be tense and somewhat charged. It wasn't until Jemma spoke that the air between them changed.

  
"Fitz." She began, needing to give some explanation as to why she had rejected him so firmly before, at the thought of consummating their marriage. She didn't want him to become suspicious of her denying him the right, nor to assume, like Lance, that she was unholy. She inhaled a deep breath before continuing. "I feel the need to apologise for my behaviour before, I shouldn't have-"

  
"No, Bethany, I completely understand." He interrupted. Hearing her step siblings name at such a time frustrated her deeply. "I should never have kissed you the way I did. I'm sorry if I frightened you off. But please be aware, my Lady, that I would never harm you intentionally-"

  
"Ugh, Fitz!" Jemma was shocked by her own outburst, she felt so disrespectful speaking to a Lord in such a manor. But this man was to be her husband for the next year or so, if she could not speak freely to her husband, then who could she speak to so openly? "That's not what I'm apologising for."

  
This seemed to shock Fitz, and Jemma suddenly realised that he had little self confidence in himself. It was a shame that her husband felt such a way, and Jemma felt her own heart become heavier with the guilt of what her rejected had done to him. "It isn't?" He finally asked, his voice raspy.

  
"No. In fact, it was rather...nice. Earlier, I mean."

  
"Oh." He paused for thought. "It was rather, um, nice. Earlier. With the kissing, and such." Fitz suddenly felt less embarrassed and more discombobulated. "What exactly is it you're apologising for?"

  
Jemma let out a frustrated sigh, "For outwardly rejecting you immediate consummation."

  
"Bethany, I told you earlier, I will wait until you are ready." He explained in an exasperated breath before adding, "Until we're both ready." to his protests in an attempt to make her feel less guilty.

  
"Yes, but I wasn't sure whether or not you would change your mind as soon as we were in a more...private setting."

  
"Surely, you cannot believe that I would force you into doing something you did not want to take part in." He repeated, "Or did you think that I was only saying so, because we were in the presence of company?"

  
"No, no, of course not. I merely thought you would be angered by my request that we take our time. I just assumed that most would." Jemma regretted ever bringing it up, it appeared she had caused even more tension and lead Fitz to assume things she did not believe. Or at least, things she did not believe anymore. It was reassuring to know he wasn't just acting so kindly towards her in front of company, and acting with such cruelty when they were alone, as Lady Victoria had been when with her father.

  
"Well, I am not most, Bethany. I'm your husband, and if this is going to work then I believe we should trust each other."

  
"Yes, you're absolutely right. Trust. Completely important." She nodded along, finding herself a little too enthusiastic.

  
"Alright, good." Fitz responded. He was pleased that Bethany had opened up to him slightly, and that she had apologised for her actions despite it being unnecessary. He was alarmed at her first impression of him, believing that he would use false pretences in front of others and act so cruelly to her once alone. He only hoped that she could believe his sincerity. Speaking of sincerity, Fitz couldn't help but think back to the kisses they had shared earlier in earnest. He feared he had responded a little too eagerly, but as soon as she returned his kiss, there was an explosion of tongues and soft touches. Despite not wanting to consummate their marriage so suddenly, Fitz wondered whether or not Bethany would mind repeating their earlier experience before Lance had so rudely interrupted.

  
Unknown to Fitz, that Jemma shared similar thoughts. She couldn't help but replay their earlier kisses in her mind. Remembering the way his arms felt as they were wrapped securely around her waist, embracing her and welcoming her into a world of their own where they could forget the world which carried on around them. Then she analysed the way his breath had hitched when she swiped her tongue experimentally against his bottom lip, mimicking his own action. Jemma wondered whether or not she would be able to steal a few more kisses from him without it leading to something more. She knew she must resist him, but she found it such a difficult task to follow.

  
The sound of Fitz's terrified voice broke her train of thought, "Bethany, could I, that is may I- not to contradict myself earlier but, may I kiss you?"

  
Jemma hesitated for a second, she knew she shouldn't but with nothing else clouding her mind other than their earlier kisses, Jemma couldn't help but agree.

  
It began similar to their first kiss: Fitz had propped himself up on one elbow in order to cup her face in both his hands yet again. This time, however, his lips were pressed against her almost demandingly. He hadn't meant to start so fierce, but when Jemma kissed him back with renewed fever, Fitz found that he couldn't bring himself to regret it. One of his hands slid back to the nape of her neck, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. Soon enough, Fitz began to tease her lips with his tongue, in retaliation Jemma opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to push past her plump lips and delve inside. Jemma brought one of her own hands up to tug at his hair, tilting his head ever so slightly to the left to change the angle.

  
From the moment his tongue invaded her mouth, seeking out her own and teasing it until she tangled her tongue around his, Jemma was filled with a deep urge to press for more. She found that Fitz unlocked desires in her that she had never previously encountered. Her hands started to wonder out of their own accord, the one that had previously been twisted in his locks had trailed down to grasp at his back. Whilst the other teased the buttons of his shirt, seeking the touch of him, the touch of his skin beneath her fingertips. Neither Fitz nor Jemma had realised the change in their positions until their bodies slammed into the others. Somewhere along the line, Fitz had raised onto his knees, bringing one knee to rest on the other side of her own, locking her legs right between his. The new position meant that Fitz was completely on top of her, and Jemma found herself in no mood to protest the feel of his form above hers.

  
Fitz's mouth suddenly broke away from her own, before finding its place on her cheek, then jawline, trailing kisses down the sides of her face. Jemma arched her neck, her throat begging for attention until he finally skimmed his mouth over it. He scrapped his teeth lightly, experimentally over her throat causing Jemma to release a breathy moan. Her fingers tightened their grasp on his back, whilst her other hand teased his exposed skin, skimming over his chest and delighting in the way she could feel his heart racing under her touch. Fitz bit gently at the column of her throat before his fingers rose her chin until his lips met her own once more.

  
Jemma brought the hand that lay across his chest, up to his cheek. This time, she was the one to thrust her tongue into his mouth, stroking his length and relishing in the tiny moan he released into their joined mouths. He pulled his mouth away once more, leaving a trail of hot kisses down her neck yet again, this time he stopped when he reached the beginning of her clothing. He placed a hot, wet kiss on the top her breast, he wanted to press more kisses along them but was restricted by the fine material of her dress. Instead, he reapplied his attentions to her neck and jawline. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place as his tongue flicked her earlobe before taking it in his mouth. Jemma subconsciously thrusted her hips up, crashing them into his own. A moan escaped both their lips at the feel of his evident arousal pressing firmly against her.

  
Fitz pressed his forehead against her own as they stopped to catch their breath. Fitz mumbled an apology against her temple as he retreated. He didn't mean to push her, but he was sure if they didn't stop now it would be impossible to later, and Fitz really wanted to respect her wishes to wait. Even if it killed him.

  
Jemma was ever so grateful that Fitz took the initiative to stop. She had lost full control of herself and needed to be more firm with herself. It appeared that Fitz had forgotten his own morals too, though, she wasn't sure how experienced Fitz was, but the way he savaged her mouth with his own left her feeling dizzy and in need of more.

  
"He has mistresses, for certain." Victoria's words sprang to mind. And sudden doubts clouded her mind as she still struggled to catch her breath.

  
If they couldn't sleep earlier, sleep certainly wouldn't come to them now.

 

 


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a short chapter, but I'm hoping publish chapter 6 tonight. Thank you to every who has followed the story, commented and left kudos. I am very appreciative. :)

It was still dark when Jemma awoke the next morning. Hints of orange tearing through the dark barriers of the night’s sky, telling her it was almost sunrise. Extracting herself from Fitz’s arms had proven quite difficult. It felt so incredibly natural to be wrapped between them, to be cuddled by his warmth. Jemma was cold by nature, her body heat escaped her easily, but when she was enwrapped in Fitz’s hold, all she felt was warmth flood through her system. It felt like sleeping by an open fire, something which she did quite often at home. _Home_.

 

She supposed a lot of things about Fitz reminded her of home. The way his eyes had sparkled the night prior during supper when she had watched him talk enthusiastically with Lance, had reminded her an awful lot of Bobbi, who also shared a glint in her eyes as she talked excitedly at length about her new dreams. His warm embrace had reminded her of the warmth in her mother’s gaze as she looked upon her children with such fondness and amusement; it also reminded her of the comfort her mother gave. An embrace harboured with love and affection, with a promise of hope and a solution to all of Jemma’s problems. His assertion reminded her distinctly of her father, a trait which he had passed down to herself, and a trait that had allowed her father to gain complete authority and trust from his men.

 

Jemma continued to ponder the many similarities between Fitz and home, though she could only make comparisons between the brief sides of him she had seen so far, there were still many which she could draw.

 

“Do you normally awake so early?” A voice – Fitz’s voice, she recognised – asked softly. She had been so lost in thought that she had not heard his footsteps draw near.

 

She turned to see him leaning against an oak tree, only meters from where she was hovering by the lakes edge. Jemma could not help but noticed how the chartreuse leaves diluted his piercing eyes. She did not like it. His eyes were vastly becoming one of her favourite things about him.     “Most days,” she finally answered, and it was true. For most days she was forced to awaken at such ungodly hours of the morn, in order to complete her chores and please her ruthless Lady. “I came to watch the sunrise.” She added.

 

She heard Fitz “hmm”, before he responded to her, “If you make a habit of rising before the sun, I may come to the decision of sending you back to your father.” Jemma could tell by the lightness in his voice that he was jesting, the corners of her lips tugged upwards, though since Fitz could not see her smile he assumed she was not impressed by his comment and so, he felt the sudden urge to hit his head against the oak tree he was leaning against. He did not, instead he added in earnest, “Though, I suppose if I get the pleasure to look upon such a beautiful sight every morning, I won’t mind the early awakening so much.” Heat rose to both of their cheeks at his implications, and with Jemma’s hesitancy to reply, Fitz rushed through a, “I was referring to the sun.”

 

The pink stains on her cheeks remained, despite his correction. Having finally recovered and gathered her wits, a sudden realisation dawned upon Jemma. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” There was concern laced within every syllable of her sentence. She had been so focused on his implications that she did not take much thought in the fact that she had awoken him.

 

Despite himself, Fitz attempted to channel his inner confidence which Lance had been so adamant would help him woo his new wife. “After last night, I don’t think there was much sleep to be had.” He felt sheepish at his own boldness.

 

Jemma turned to search his features, but was distracted by the silhouettes of three men above the slope, she recognised them as Fitz’s own. Despite knowing there was no chance of being heard, Jemma did not want to risk Fitz’s men making crude comments or assumptions about their activities last night. “I completely agree with you, Lord Fitz. I’m certain meeting your new wife for the first time was just as stressful for you as it was for me.” She answered, turning her head in his direction and signalling to his men on the slope.

 

Fitz looked up to see his men advancing, he realised her intentions and rose his voice unnecessarily, just as Jemma had. “That it was, Lady Bethany that it was.” Jemma cringed at the use of her step sister’s name yet again, it appeared she would have to answer to the name of the devils spawn from now onwards. Fitz took a few steps forward until he was standing behind her, his breath tickling the left side of her neck, where she had struggled to conceal the dark marks his lips had left behind the night prior. He lowered his voice as he spoke, “Though there were aspects of last night which I would be delighted to experience again. Aspects we might not find so stressful.”

 

Fitz watched as Jemma processed his words, the pink stains on her cheeks deepened further, and a gasp which Jemma had attempted to conceal escaped her lips. Fitz took a small step back, the hand which had hovered over her waist dropped, too, relieving them of their intimacy though not dissipating their tension. “-we shall continue our travels soon, my Lady. As I have just explained Perthshire is only a few fields away, then through a small village north.” He raised his voice again in faux conversation as the three soldiers past them with heavy footing and entered the lake, rinsing their dirt covered faces and scrubbing at their muddied feet.

 

“What do we do in the meantime? I could prepare breakfast if you wished?”

 

Her question astonished him. “You needn’t concern yourself with that, you are the Lady and my men are to serve you. I would not expect such a task of you, simply because you are the only woman within my clan.” Fitz had been raised for a majority of his life by only his mother, and s had developed a great towards women. He paused before adding, “For now, let’s just watch the sun.”

 

And they did. And Jemma couldn’t help but hope that this was the first of many sunrises that they would watch together. There was something wonderful about watching the sunrise with her father, every first morn of his first return. But there was something magical and unexplainable about watching it with Fitz. It didn’t feel like a tradition, it felt right. It felt…romantic and somehow, just like home.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I warn you that parts of this chapter include mature content. I would probably rate this a M+/E, I'm not too good with ratings and I am very over cautious. 
> 
> This chapter is basically heat, with fluff, and possibly a smidgen of angst. This was not in the plan, or book for that matter, but okay let's just go with it. It is still kind of shorter than I had hoped but my brain has been mush these past few days, hopefully I can start writing longer chapters soon. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos. I hope you enjoy. :-)

It had begun as a chaste kiss. A brief but meaningful meet of their lips as they enjoyed a moment of privacy together, watching the sunrise as Fitz’s men began to prepare for their journey home above the slope.

 

What was intended to be a quick brush of lips had moulded into something so much deeper the moment their lips met. With a breaths space between them, Fitz had surged forward. His hands cushioned her face and his head bowed down an inch lower so he could kiss her the way he had yearned to since their awakening. Her lips were as soft as he remembered, as he pressed his own against them with a slow, seductive urgency that caused Fitz to groan as they tortured each other with deliciously slow kisses. His languid movements tormented Jemma and riled her up in ways she hadn’t imagined. Deciding to torment Fitz instead, Jemma changed tactics and fisted a hand in his hair, pulling him closer to her as she swiped her tongue across his bottom lip. She felt his body melt against her own, his hands dropped from her face and encircled her waist before sliding up her back and holding her to him. Her tongue darted into his mouth, meeting his own in a heated dual before it all became too much. Fitz walked her backwards until she was pressed up against a tree, with his own body pinning her to it.

 

She bit his lip, wanting to feel him shiver above her as he had done so the night before. He smiled against her teeth, and groaned, all before scrapping his own teeth lightly across her bottom lip in retaliation. A surge of pleasure washed over her, sending more vigour to the kisses they shared. His tongue pleaded for entrance, again, against her lips. When she finally granted him access, his tongue stroked the deepest part of her mouth, gliding over the recesses of her mouth like a flame setting her on fire. Jemma could certainly feel the heat of it. Suddenly, Fitz broke apart to press wet kisses against her already bruised neck. He moved her hair out of the way as his lips trailed a path down her throat, just as he did the night prior before working his way up to her jawline. Her own, swelled lips parted as breathy gasps escaped her. The hand gripping his hair, tugged hard enough to gain his attention, and Jemma forcefully guided his lips to her own before allowing her other hand to massage the short beard which scratched against her cheeks in the most pleasurable way. His own hands had trailed down to her hips before cupping the curves of her buttocks. Instinctively, he thrust into her and Jemma was reminded of the rigid erection which pressed against her salaciously. Their joined lips broke apart as they shared a moan. Jemma had never physically ached for someone before, her throbbing clitoris desired his touch, and as they paused for breath, Jemma attempted to sate this uncontrollable desire and rutted against him as best as she could in her position. Fitz seemed shocked by her movements, with his forehead still leaning against her own he glanced down at their joined hips before raising his gaze to her amber eyes. He searched them for a long moment before slowly, experimentally rolling his hips into her. She whimpered. He did it again, this time with less hesitancy and again, before tucking his head into her neck and rutting against her once more as her own hips surged forward to meet his own. One of his hands lingered at her thigh before grabbing hold of it and lifting her leg until it was at his hip. He knew doing so with the other would prove rather uncomfortable with Jemma’s tight skirts, so instead he allowed himself the pleasure of feeling her thigh beneath his grasp, wondering what the smooth flesh bellow her dress would feel like instead of her dresses fabric. Fitz continued to plough his hips into her own as she rocked her hips forward to meet his thrusts. One of her hands gripped at his shoulders whilst the other nipped the nape of his neck. He pressed heated kisses and light flicks of his tongue along her collar bone and throat as he thrusted uncontrollably into her. She wailed and tilted her head back forcefully and – suddenly Jemma’s vison blurred and all she could see was darkness.

 

Jemma opened her eyes to see Fitz staring at her with a look of concern stricken across his face. She was no longer pinned against a tree but lying on the ground, Fitz’s arm cushioning her neck whilst the other brushed softly against her cheek. Confusion hit her immediately. Had she dreamt the entire thing? The persistent throbbing and ache of her clitoris had dissipated to its usual state of tingling when in Fitz’s presence, and she couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of pressure pressing against her body as he held her, Fitz’s face was no longer flushed with passion but pale, and his lips did not appear to be as swollen as Jemma last remembered. Jemma was disappointed as she realised she had dreamed the entire thing, perhaps this was for this best, she thought, as she would have found it impossible to resist him for much longer given the brief taste of bliss and pleasure he had allowed her. But, why did he appear so concerned? And why was her head pulsating? Oh, dear! She hadn’t acted it out had she?

 

Before Jemma could torture herself with more embarrassing scenarios, Fitz tore her from her thoughts with a stuttering, “Are you in any—is--how are you feeling?”

 

“My head hurts,” she winced as she brought herself into a sitting position, Fitz removed his hands from her face and neck, but remained kneeling next to her. Their proximity casted a blush upon Jemma’s face as she recalled details of his face being tucked into her neck, scraping his teeth against her skin as he rutted into her. “What happened?” She asked, and thought she saw a flicker of disappointment in Fitz’s blue orbs.

 

“Uh, well, we were watching the sunrise,” he started slowly, pausing until Jemma nodded to continue, “and uh, things progressed…between us and it would seem that you hit your head against the tree and uh, knocked yourself unconscious.” He seemed unsure of himself as he spoke, worried she did not remember.

 

So it was real, Jemma mused in delight.

 

It wasn’t until Fitz breathed out a relieved, “Yeah,” that she realised she had said it out loud. “Yeah, it was.” He repeated in a whisper, he moved an inch closer as he asked, “But that was fine, was it not? You didn’t feel pressured or overwhelmed by it, did you?” He searched her face, looking for clarification as to what was acceptable, he did not want to force her, knowing she had some reservations, though he could not help but wonder why she was so open to furthering their intimacy.

 

“I’m not too sure about the overwhelmed part, however I assure you I didn’t feel pressured by you.”

 

He nodded vigorously, his mouth agape until he remembered himself. “How is your head?”

 

“The throbbing seems to have dulled, but the ache is still there.” Jemma noticed a blush rising on Fitz’s cheeks, so rushed to add, “When will we be leaving for Perthshire?”

 

“My men would have most likely finished preparing for the journey about twenty minutes ago. Though, I’m sure they won’t mind the wait.”

 

“We should leave now, then.” She said abruptly, as she made move to stand up. However, Fitz stopped her from making any further movements by placing a gentle hand on her forearm.

 

“Are you sure you’re fine to move so quickly?”

 

She rolled her eyes at his ridicule concern, “Fitz, I am more than capable of walking up a slope and sitting on a horse, thank you very much.”

 

“Then as soon as we arrive at Perthshire, I will have word sent for a doctor to examine you. I promised your family that no harm would ever come to you, and I fully intend to keep that promise.”

 

Jemma rolled her eyes fondly at Fitz, allowing him to help her stand as they rose to walk up the slope. Few of his men appeared irritated by their lateness, others appeared unmoved and unbothered by the delay, simply staring off into a world of their own. There was only one man grinning at the pair knowingly as they walked up the slope. That man was of course Lance.

 

“Quick fumble in the bushes before meeting the in-laws? Lady Bethany you do surprise me.” Lance teased. Jemma would have rose to his bait, had she not been so consumed by his mentioning of in laws. For a moment, the thought that Fitz had a family awaiting for his return in Perthshire completely escaped her notice.

 

The thought plagued her for a majority of their travels, how could she have been so oblivious to the fact that Fitz had a family? A mother and a father, possibly siblings who cared for him and who he in turn cared for deeply. How could Lady Victoria have been so narrow minded as to overlook such as simple thing as family? Surely, Fitz’s family would notice the difference between Bethany and herself.

 

“You alright over there, love?” Lance asked. He was riding to the left of Fitz and herself. He had been conversing mostly with Fitz throughout their journey, but whilst he spoke briefly to Doug, he could not help but catch the scowl Jemma donned.

 

“I am well, thank you.” She replied politely, though the smile did not conceal the worry in her eyes.

 

Lance sighed, “I think I know what has left you so sullen.” He answered cryptically.

 

Jemma whipped her head around in Lance’s direction. Could he know? He had seemed so suspicious of her this past day, looking upon her with such ambiguity. Could he have finally pieced together the truth? It was evident he had enquired about her step sisters past. She took in a deep breath, “And why is that?” She hoped her voice wasn’t as shaky as she thought.

 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I felt the same way when I came to Perthshire.” He stated as if that explained everything.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I’m following?”

 

“It’s terrifying, moving to the enemy borders. You were so startled when I mentioned Fitzy’s family earlier, I understand why you would be so nervous. What with all the nonsense your family has possibly told you of the Scottish. But, the Fitz’s aren’t like those savage brutes your father warned you of, they’re kind people as I am sure you’ll learn.” He informed her, and though Jemma felt eased by the confirmation that the Fitz family were gentle people, she could not help but worry about Victoria’s scheme and what would happen to her if they discovered the truth.

 

“Thank you.” Jemma settled upon. She felt the arm around her waist tighten and Fitz place a single kiss into her hair.

 

“They won’t hurt you,” he added in comfort, “I’ll make sure of it.” His last comment made her stomach churn. With his promise of ensuring no harm would come to her earlier, and his repetition of the comment, Jemma couldn’t help but feel so terribly guilty for the lies she was inflicting upon him. They had known each other for only one day, and she was certain he would do almost anything for her. She felt so cruel and evil. She was just as bad as Victoria, if not worse, she told herself. She knew in that moment that telling Fitz the truth would break him. Perhaps, one day in the near future, Fitz would forgive her for all the pain inflicted on him.

 

* * *

 

 

Arriving at Fitz’s castle, Jemma had expected an intimidating brood of his relatives to pin Fitz to the floor, offering their begrudged congratulations. She was surprised when she found the castle practically empty, excluding Fitz, herself and the castle staff. He felt chagrined when he realised that his mother nor any other family member of his had come to offer their congratulations. He quickly regathered his wits however, taking Jemma’s hand in his own and offering her a boyish smile. He squeezed her hand as he showed her to their room, requesting one of the maids to retrieve her trunk of clothing and bring it to their room.

 

There was an unmistakable tension in the air as the pair sat on the edge of their master bed. Their hands still joined between them, neither had spoken a word since the maids return with Jemma’s trunk. Fitz finally broke the silence between them, asking Jemma about her life back in Shield. Jemma dreaded the question, she was unsure how to answer without somehow incidentally revealing she was a servant there. When she took too long to answer, Fitz asked instead, “Were you happy there?”

 

Jemma paused, she had always assumed that she was happy. She wasn’t content with the way her Lady treated her and the other servants, nor with the hours she slaved away on chores which went by without thanks, but she was pleased enough at the fact that she was able to work alongside her family, with a roof over her head, food on her plate, and the brief presence of her father. She was not sure what true happiness felt like, she had often been too busy working, missing out on precious time with her mother and sister. “Yes,” she answered in a quiet voice, “yes, I believe so.”

 

Fitz searched her face for a brief moment before raising one corner of his lips. “Then I shall strive to make you happy enough to answer such a question without hesitancy.” He released her hand a moment later, standing, he walked towards a chest of drawers, searching each draw before final finding what he was looking for. “It just occurred to me that you wear no ring,” he lifted her left hand and placed a metal band upon her ring finger. It fitted her perfectly, she brought her hand down to examine the ring, noticing a burgundy ruby placed at the centre. There were swirls and deep carvings on the sides of the silver band, “It belonged to my grandmother,” he explained and Jemma stood to thank him.

 

She wrapped her arms around him in an embrace which Fitz kindly returned. “I am truly sorry that my family could not be here to greet you.” He whispered against her hair, he felt so guilty, this poor woman has been stripped of her family and lunged into another, the least his family could do is show some sympathy and welcome the girl.

 

“I assure you it is fine, perhaps they wanted to give us some privacy?” She suggested in attempts to comfort him, she recognised how hurt he was by the fact that his family did not show. The moment the words left her mouth she regretted it immediately, the implications which were attached to their privacy sent blushes across both of their cheeks.

 

She noticed Fitz staring at her lips as she lifted her head, possibly recalling their earlier events, before he nodded and released a breathless, “Yeah,” his arms dropped from around her waist to hang by his own sides, and his gaze flickered to the rich textured carpets which covered their chamber floor. “I should call for a maid to help you unpack.” He stated, rather than suggested. She had little time to nod in agreement before he fled the chamber, a deep sigh escaped Jemma as he closed the door swiftly behind him. Resisting him wouldn’t be all that hard if he continued to shy away from her, she mused whilst unpacking her trunk. Which was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I will try and update as frequently as possible. The first few chapters are all ready for publishing, and a few more just need proof reading. :D
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think! 
> 
> And on a final note: explicit content will come in later chapters, for those who are not a fan of smutty writing I shall write a warning in the chapter notes beforehand. :-)


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